


All of You

by BloodMoonWitch



Series: Black is the Color [9]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, but not at you of course, he’s just a soft gentle boy who needs love, oop he gets mad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 03:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20220700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodMoonWitch/pseuds/BloodMoonWitch
Summary: You’re injured in a fight and Muriel just wants to keep you safe and protect you and Morga is trying her best- this is just some hurt/comfort and fluff cause I wanted an excuse to have Muriel be sweet and soft and caring let me have this





	All of You

**Author's Note:**

> This is my excuse to go back and write more about their adventures cause I got inspired so just pretend that this is one giant flashback
> 
> (takes place after the kiss and all the other stories I wrote about their journeys)
> 
> I also straight up forgot about Inanna in this and I’m honestly so sorry like I never wanted to exclude our beautiful baby girl like this but its too late now

I had been foolish, ignorantly brave and overly confident in what little skills Morga had taught me. We had caught up to Lucio again, and I did as Morga had told me to: I attacked with all I had. 

It was a better fight this time, at least. The three of us nearly had the upper hand before searing hot metal chains flung at us from out of nowhere, nearly missing Muriel, nicking Morga’s arm, but catching and wrapping tightly around my leg. I cried out and fell to the ground as the chains retreated back to wherever they had come from, and before I even knew what was happening, Muriel had wrapped me up in his arms and cloak, running as fast as he could from the fight. Morga mustn’t have stayed much longer, because she found us not long after Muriel had set me down carefully in a small cave he had found in the mountainside. He still held me, keeping me tight to his chest as Morga stormed in. 

“What the hell was that? We could have-”

“We would have died,” he said it with such certainty, his voice raising much louder than I had ever heard it, “You have no idea what those chains mean. He would have killed us.” They fought for a while longer, but all I could focus on was the agonizing, burning pain spiking through my leg. 

“Muriel,” I whimpered softly, clutching whatever fabric I could as I buried my face into his chest, as if that could hide me and keep me safe. He ignored Morga completely, bringing a comforting hand to my hair as he tried to wipe away the tears I hadn’t noticed falling. 

“I’ll do what I can for you,” Morga said, sounding only slightly less angry. She must have been talking to me, but I don’t think I could have responded if I tried. I’m not sure what happened next, but something touched a burn on my leg, and I couldn’t help but pull it back to me, sobbing into Muriel’s chest. 

“Shh, please,” he whispered, sounding just as pained as I felt, “you have to let her help.” I tried, shakily extended my leg again, but the next time felt even worse, and I winced and I yanked my leg away from her. I hadn’t been brave enough to look at it yet, but I didn't need to look to see Morga scowl and roll her eyes. 

“For the love of- just hold them down, boy,” she ordered Muriel. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but inevitably, I felt his hand press down on my leg, holding it still as Morga continued trying to dress the wound. 

Gods, I tried so hard not to cry or writhe because I knew Muriel was eating himself alive at the thought of him hurting me even if he was helping to heal me, but I couldn’t stop the occasional twitch or whimper or groan. All the while, he kept apologizing and telling me that I was going to be fine, and I could do nothing but cling to him and cry. I could tell Morga was trying to be gentle, but she couldn’t help but be harsh and quick in her movements.

After one particularly painful swipe of whatever she was applying to a badly burned part of my leg, I couldn’t hold back the scream that fell from my lips. That seemed to be a breaking point for Muriel. 

“Enough!” he yelled, his deep voice like thunder in the tiny cave. He shoved Morga’s hands off my leg, his own staying to hover over it as if to protect it from her. 

“Fine! You do it!” Morga yelled in return, throwing down whatever was in her hands, grabbing her spear, and disappearing into the night. 

I felt Muriel take a deep breath before reaching out to grab what Morga had dropped. He shifted me in his lap so that he had one arm around my upper body, my legs slung over to the side, pulled up so that he could still hold me as he worked. I saw my leg then, and I tried not to flinch at the chain shaped burns I saw wrapping around my upper shin and knee. 

He must have been watching my face, and when I looked up to him, he looked guilt-ridden, lips pulled into a tight line and eyes brimmed with tears. I watching him fight them back, grabbing the container of whatever Morga had been using, taking a small amount out on his fingers, and, so gently I barely flinched, he began to sooth the ointment into my blistering skin. He was so much more careful than Morga, stopping and asking if I was alright with every twitch or hitch of my breath. It didn't take much longer, and I helped him to wrap a white cloth around my leg, his other arm unwilling to let me go. 

I felt exhausted, drained from the fight and the pain, so I just fell onto Muriel, both of his arms wrapping firmly around me. We sat in silence for a long while, his cloak wrapped around us, savoring each other’s body heat. Whatever they had put on my leg, it was starting to numb the area, so at least there was hardly any pain. I tried to relax, muscles aching and protesting from all the stress I had put them under. 

“We should rest,” Muriel said, quiet and surprisingly calm. I was having troubling keeping my eyes open, so I definitely wasn’t going to fight him on that. He moved us again so that his back was against a gently curved wall of the cave with me still in his lap, head resting on his shoulder and my legs gently extended out to the side. I took off my cloak, wrapped it up, and I used a hand in his hair to pull his head forward so I could give him some sort of a pillow. He blushed, but thanked me as he further wrapped his cloak around the both of us like a blanket. I could see his face more clearly like this, and I saw him struggling to say something for a few moments before he found the right words. 

“I’m sorry about yelling earlier . . . That’s . . . that’s not who I want to be,” his voice was quiet, but we were so close it didn't make a difference. I brought my face up to his, our noses just barely touching, and Muriel blushed violently, but still held my gaze. I could tell he was tired too, his brow creased in worry and a deep frown formed on his lips. 

“I know-” I found myself struggling as well, “you were just protecting me.” He leaned his head closer to mine, pressing our foreheads together as he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

“I want to keep you safe . . . That’s why I ran, but . . . I- I don’t want to be a coward.” What had Morga yelled at him when I was delirious from the pain?

“I don’t think you’re a coward, Muriel. I’m not sure how you knew, and I . . . I wont ask,” I said, and he seemed grateful, giving me a small, sad smile, “but you knew what those chains were. You knew that we couldn’t win, and I trust your judgment. I trust you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, running my fingers through his tangled hair, and he opened his eyes again, hope and a little shock flickering in them. “I trust you,” I repeated because it looked like he needed to hear it. He seemed to relax more and more as I spoke, even leaning up a little to press the barest kiss to my lips, hesitant and gentle and beautiful. 

“I trust you,” I mumbled against his lips before leaning in again, feeling so safe and warm in his arms. 

“Muriel . . .” He brought one of his hands to my face, pulling me closer to him as his other arm wrapped even tighter around my waist. I kissed him again and agin because I needed time to work up the courage to say what I wanted to say. 

“I love you,” breathed out. I was sure of this, and had been for a while. I firmly believed that love was not some gut feeling or fluttering, lighthearted nonsense they tried to sell in books. Love was a choice, a conscious decision to be with someone and to accept their good alongside their bad, not in spite of it. I loved him for his compassion, his gentle hands, and his unbearably kind heart despite what this cruel world had done to him. I loved him for his scars, his past, his demons and nightmares that I would fight off with my bare fists if I had to. And maybe one day I would tell him all that, but for now, my heart was already racing out of my chest, and I don’t think I even breathed for a little while. 

We both stood still for a moment, and I began to worry again that I was pushing him too far too fast . . .

But then he kissed me again, somehow softer than before, and it pained me to pull away when I felt a wetness on my cheeks. I opened my eyes to find Muriel’s still closed tightly, trying desperately to keep the tears from falling. 

“You . . . you don’t mean that,” his breath hitched as he shook his head, opening his eyes but keeping them focused somewhere off to the side, “you cant-”

“I love you, Muriel. All of you.” His eyes darted up to mine, recognizing the words I had used weeks ago when he asked me why I drew his scars on the little sketches I had done of him. I knew he likely wouldn’t say it back, but that was alright. I whispered it over and over as he clung to me, face buried in my hair and mine in his neck. I would say it until it became an undeniable fact in his mind, not caring how long that would take. He cried softly against me for a while, and I would be lying if I said that my eyes were dry. I kept on mumbling I love you’s even as I was half asleep, head falling down onto his shoulder and words blurring together, and he never loosened his hold on me. 

We woke up the next morning to Morga’s yelling, which wasn't the best way to start the day, but being wrapped in Muriel’s arms definitely was. We didn’t really talk about what had happened last night, but Morga had made me a crutch to use until my leg healed and Muriel kept blessing me with small, gorgeous smiles. There wasn't much pain anymore, and a quick peak beneath the wrappings let me see that whatever salve Morga had used was extremely effective. It would most likely scar, but I was fine with that. Scars had never scared me


End file.
